I'm not a collector, I only fancy keeping one unbelievably unique vintage thing for mine to cherish, let it be you.

I'm so far passed dreaming about you,
I now know you're utterly mine and only mine on all the other branches.

How could I not stare at you when I'm so attracted to every little thing about you?

How can I pretend that I'm looking the other way, when every single word that finds a way out of me is seeking you?

How can I pretend like I'm having fun with someone else, when all I want is to have the most randomly boring conversations with you, sitting at that table in that ghosted little cafe, no one is passing by, no cars would be interested to walk on the streets, the atmosphere not filling with any pleasant sound but your voice, and nothing shines but you and the sun, lighting up that little piece of your soul that feels safe to actually talk to me about the most irrelevant things.

How can I exist, pretending like every inch of me yearns for you?

He never was that sweet in real life
But he was an angel in my nightmare

Out of all the things you could be,
Could you just be mine first darlin?

The real you is that one version that doesn't care about impressing others.

You did walk away exactly whenever I needed you the most.

He wouldn't survive a second without you holding his hand.

Darlin I'm too old to cry for something like that

Everything tastes different
The coffee
My favorite cigarettes
And your lips